How wrong we were to think that Immortality meant Never Dying
by ShadowsDie
Summary: I stare at the blade, a faint smile resting upon my lips. This is the blade that I rely on more than anyone else. This is the blade that has touched my skin thousands of times. This is the blade that takes away all my pain.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Crimson Blood

A/n

I know this is a really short chapter, But this is kinda just a tester. If You like it, leave a review and I'll write more. When I get 5 Reviews, I'll Write the next chapter.

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When Nobody Hates You More Than You Hate Yourself, How Can You Possibly Feel Loved?

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I stare at the piece of work in front of me, Not really taking in any of the information on the page. It's the same usual routine as the last year or two. Just blank out, don't let anyone notice you. Keep your head down, Never speak when you're not wanted. Fake smiles. Fake Laughter. Pretend to be happy when I'm with my friends.

The Friends that never notice how much pain I'm going through.

There are many reasons for the pain. Such as my parents. Abusive, Yes , but not as bad as some of the things I've been through. Immortality. The Sheer fact that however much I want this pain to stop, for me to just disappear and never come back, Is impossible. No matter what I do, whether It's standing in front of a train, Jumping from a building, Hanging myself, Cutting open my wrist, It never works. I always die, but I also always come back.

There's also him. The one person who I cared about and made me happy is gone. And He's probably never coming back.  
I sigh and open my sketchbook, Which I always keep with me. I open it to a new page, looking at the last drawing I have done before Turning the page. A boy. Sleep deprived, Sick of living. Taking a gun to his head and saying goodbye to the world. Dark lines make the drawing stand out as well as the shading.

I grap my pencil and start sketching, not knowing what is going to come out onto the paper. As soon as I realize what I'm drawing, I close the book and Sigh once again. I stand up, not caring that people are staring at me.

"Kenneth McCormick, Get back into that seat this instant!" Garrison shouts at me.

I block him out, concentrating on grabbing all my stuff. I head towards the door. Garrison shouts again but I barely notice, too busy exiting the room to give a single fuck. I head towards the back of the school, keeping my head down and ignoring anyone who walks near me. I sit down on the floor, my back against the uncomfortable wall. I grab my Bag, staring at the band on the front first before I open it. I search, trying to find the object I need. I pull it out of my bag , clutching it in my hand. I slowly open my hand , Staring at the shining metal of the blade in my pale hand. I take a deep breath and rest it against my left arm. I take a moment to stare at the scars from the past few months. I blink slowly as I Slice my skin, a fain smile on my lips as I see the crimson liquid dripping from my wrist. My vision starts to blur and I slowly exit consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.  
I know What it's like to want to die. How It hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try and Kill the thing on the inside.

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Chapter 2 theme music: Dead by My Chemical Romance. Just cause I loveee it.

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I wake up, Gasping, My Eyes wide and searching. For the past few months, I've been having a nightmare that keeps reapeating itself everynight. I'm not quite sure what it means, but the blackness and the endlessness of it terrifies me. I sit on my pathetic excuse for a bed for around 10 minutes, just thinking. I get up, quietly, as to not alarm my mum and Dad that I'm awake. I search around my room, Looking for some jeans without stains on them. I settle for a pair of Black jeans and my old My Chemical Romance Top.

I slowly creep down the stairs, Trying not to make any noise. I don't want the fucking teachers asking why I have a bust lip or a black eye. I relax, which is a mistake because I accidently step too hard on the last stair, and it makes a quiet squeak. I close my eyes, waiting for the screaming to happen, for my dad to come running down the stairs and hit me... But it never happens.

I slowly open my eyes and sigh. I walk quietly into the living room, where the cracked, dirty mirror hangs. I catch a glimpse of myself as I walk past it. I stop, shocked by how awful I look.

I have bags under my eyes and My skin is very pale, almost white. My eyes are sunken in and The blue not any where near as bright as it was once. I stare into those eyes for a while longer, Searching. My Eyes are lifeless. They look as though my soul has been ripped out of them and been replaced with nothing but pain. My cheeks are too thin, And I almost look Dead. I shake my head slowly, and turn to walk away from the mirror.

I freeze when I see him. My dad. He's standing in the frame of the door, Staring at me with a scowl on his face.  
" You little piece of shit...What the fuck are you doing? Get the Fuck out of my house already!" He growls as he starts walking towards me, his boots loud against the floorboards.

A feeling I know so commonly settles in the pit of my stomach, making me want to throw up. I start walking backwards slowly, my hands out in front of me. My back hits the wall and then I look around, panicking, He's almost right in front of me, Breathing heavily. I watch as he lifts a hand to hit me.  
I close my hands and hold them up in front of my face, balling them up into fists .

"You little Fucking Fag. You need to know what pain feels like!" He Shouts, his breath hitting my face, making me wince and back up against the wall. He smirks and looks at the kitchen table, where a sharp knife lays, glinting in the light. I gulp and try to look for an escape , my eyes darting around the room. Shit.

He Glares at me, warning me to stay where I am otherwise My punishment for being... Well, Alive, will be worse than I already know it is. He grabs the kitchen knife, a smile on his face that of a serial killer would wear as he rips apart the body of his newest victim, Watching in delight as the crimson blood pools around the dismembered body parts.

He starts walking back to me as I gulp, once again my eyes dart around, looking for any sort of escapse, but deep inside me I know that there is no escaping what is about to happen.

He scowls at me, His breath hitting my face and I almost retch. His breath carries the stench of Alcohol and smoke. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my cheek and Cry out, instinctively covering my cheek where he Struck me with the knife. It's quite a deep cut, but nothing bad. I pull m

y hand away and stare at it, a faint smile to my lips as I see the crimson liquid I know so commonly drip off my fingers, glinting in the dull light.  
I snap back into focus as He punches me in my stomach, The pain spreading like a forest fire as I cry out once again. I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from screaming or begging him to stop, because if I say anything I know that the punishment will be for him to Hurt me even more. He's breathing heavily, a glint of enjoyment in his eyes I only ever see when He's abusing me, brusing my body. I watch, my eyes widening as his smile spreads accross his face , His fingers tightening around the handle of the knife.

Everything now was a blur, He laughs a sickening cackle and brings the knife down onto my stomach. At first I don't even feel the pain. Then It all hits me at once. My stomach is burning, Making me unable to move, and all I can do is watch as he pulled the glinting knife out of my stomach, the pain intensyfying. I watch him, wanting to scream, to get out of there before he kills me again, But to my surprise he just leaves me here. He walks out the room, wiping the knife on his top , smearing the blood across it as he does so. I moan in pain, begging in my mind for someone to help me. But no one wants to help the Outcast. The person who wasn't supposed to be born in the first place. A freak to nature. A freak that no one can love.

I feel acid rising up my throat, and manage to lean fowards before I release the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Contents meaning water. My vision starts to blur, but I don't black out. I turn my head to the left, searching for anything I can stop the bleeding with. I spot an old kitchen rag, and try to reach for it, but my body protests, not letting me quite reach the rag. I try to lean over and grab it, but as I do so, my stomach feels as though it is being ripped open by a pack of wild wolves.

I let out a quiet howl of pain and clutch my stomach.

I don't know how long I've been sat here for, All I know is that the pain has decreased , and that My blood has formed a beautiful crimson pool around my body. I'm sure that soon I'll either die, or my mum will Make me get out of the house, Either of which I would be glad for at the moment. I try to reach the rag that is to the left of me, and to my surprise I reach, but my wound rips open, Resulting in me coughing up blood and wishing so badly for death. I pull the rag to my stomach and lift up my top, looking down at my wound. Blood is still streaking out of it, and some dried blood is spread across my torso. I avoid looking at my other cuts, knowing that I may start crying if I Do. I put the rag on my deep wound and sigh in relief. I sit here, Just thinking.

Thinking about the pain I've been through. Thinking about the quotes I Have in the back of my black book. The quotes I've started writing in these last few years. I lift my eyes to look at the old dirty clock and try to read the time. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the numbers... 10 minutes past 12. There's no reason for me to attend school today, But I Still have my Job to go to at 4 o'clock. So I have 4 hours to pull my self off the floor and get to Tweeks coffee shop.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to conjure up the bravery to crawl over to the cabinet where I know there are a few bandages. I climb onto my knees, waiting for a blood rush to pass and I breathe slowly, in and out... In and Out...

I manage to crawl a pew paces before my vision starts blurring, so I close my eyes and will myself to carry on, to go the few more paces.

I slowly open my eyes and take a few more paces, managing to make it to the cabinet. I smile briefly, but then realise the direness of the situation I am currently in. I open the cabinet slowly, trying not to make any noise. I search around in the cabinet, trying to find the bandages.

Oh Shit. I feel myself start to panic, and I widen my eys, searching harder for the bandages, my hands feeling everything. One of my index fingers touches a smooth cotton surface and I quietly thank Satan... I'll explain that later. I pull out the bandages and using a knife that was on the floor, Cut off a long slice of it. I wrap it around my torso, wincing when I move. I don't have the time nor energy to clean the wound yet, so I continue wrapping it around my torso. I tie a little knot, hoping it wont come apart.

Now the hard part- Standing up.

I know that It will hurt. A Heck of a lot. But I have to.

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A/N Oh god. I'm sorry, I'm such a bad writer. Not a lot happened in that.. But y'know.. Please leave me a review, It helps so much. Would any of Y'all like to be my BETA reader? It would be like Aweshumm if you would :D And whoever is reading this.. I love you. Thanks for sticking through and reading this.

I PM Everyone who reviews Btw ^^


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